"I've been wishing to go, more or less, for years, because you know—if you haven't forgotten—I was accidentally born in Cairo while my father was fighting in Alexandria. My earliest recollections are of Egypt, for we lived there till I was four—about the time I met and fell in love with you. I've always thought I'd like to polish up old memories. But my special hurry is because I'm anxious to meet a friend, a chap I admire and love beyond all others. I want to see him for his own sake, and for the sake of a plan we have, which may make a lot of difference for our future."
"How exciting! Did I ever know him?"
"I think not."
"Well? Don't you mean to tell me who he is?"
I hesitated, sorry I had let myself go: because Anthony had written that he didn't want his movements discussed at present.
"I'll tell you another time," I said. "I want to talk about you. Anybody else is irrelevant."
"Clever Duffer! Your friend is a secret."
"Not he! But if there's a secret anywhere, it's only a dull, dusty sort of secret. You wouldn't be interested."
"Women never are, in secrets. Well, I'm glad somebody else besides myself has a mystery to hide."
"You're very quick."